Human to Canary
by AAnnR
Summary: Her father, a crazy pariniod-mad man, takes Sell to Rio for a supposed science convention. When things turn for the worst Sell goes through a couple of changes that she never counted on.   AAnnR
1. Chapter 1

**Human to Canary**

By AAnnR

Chapter 1:

Rain splattered on the windows of the large plane. Everything on the outside of the aircraft was gray and dark; but on the inside of the passenger transport location, it was packed to the brim with people. Humans of all races were sitting in row after row; with no seemingly category of one age either.

Loud, wailing babies sat on tired mothers' laps who were trying to calm them down. When one baby started crying another one began. It was a chain reaction. The only ones on the plane who were even remotely safe from the torturous sound were the elderly people. They had turned off their hearing aids and settled down for naps. One of these older citizens was now sitting next to me, snoring compulsively. His mouth was hanging open with drool sliding out between his widely spaced teeth. It was hard not

I also sat next to my father who was tersely tapping at his computer. Every so often he would grumble at it, repeatedly hit a wide key in the top right and corner, and then continue to type. My father was a tall scrawny man with a long thin nose with an equally thin face and lips. His eyes were narrow, black, and beady.

Needless to say, I sat in the middle of both of the men. At the moment I was trying to seem like I was sleeping, but it was hard. The loud noises around my berated my ear drums. Noise was never a good thing with me. My hearing was always so sensitive. I could hear a conversation that was being whispered on the other side of the classroom on good days. On other days I was as deaf as a rock. I suppose this was because of the line of work my father was in. There were times were I was needed in some of experiments. They would need a test subject and I would be forced to volunteer.

In one of the experiments they lab people had stuck needles in to my ears drums. A couple of minutes afterward my ears had begun to bleed. The liquid had caused my ears to overwork and move into _overdrive_, as I like to call it. This was the reaction, every once in a while, to the loud noises around me. If the noise in the plane didn't stop soon then I would be deaf for several weeks.

When I become deaf it's like my entire world is crushed into a tiny ball and pushed to the ground. I can't talk or walk correctly when it happens. My depth perception just disappears completely. It sucks.

XxXxXxX

My wishes were not granted. The noise only proved to worsen. Though I didn't bleed, I was still in massive agony; to the point were I wasn't able to walk straight for hours after we landed. My dad had to carry me to the taxi that was reserved for him.

So now I stood aimlessly behind my father as he argued with the desk clerk of a hotel in some foreign language. Before long some agreement was found and I was off following him down the hall. His long legs strode purposely down the hall while I, like a fish, had to run to keep up.

I watched the numbers on each of the doors we passed until we reached the end of the hall; 198. Glancing nervously at the number, I watched as my father took the white card out of its paper sleeve and briskly shoved it in to the card scanner. The light next to it flashed green allowing us to pass through the doorway. Inside was a small room with a large king sized bed and a couch.

I moved my eyes from the cute room to the sudden movements my father seemed to be making. He was slowly gesturing to one of the doors to my right. I reached my hand to it and opened the door. The door opened to reveal a bathroom. Turning back to my dad he handed me a notepad which had written on it in scraggily handwriting:

_You go ahead and take a shower first. I need to make a phone call. _

Nodding up to him, I walked into the bathroom. I closed and locked the door behind me before making my way to the shower. Stripping of my clothes, I turned the faucet to warm before sitting on the toilet.

I suppose I need to explain something to you about my dad. He was a hard, rough man who seldom had a soft spot for anyone other than my mother and I. Yet, after my mother died of lung cancer several years ago my father became a rather closed off man. No amount of begging, loving, tricking, bribing, or crying brought him back out of his shell once he completely closed you out. His trust of humans vanished, leaving me all alone most days.

I got to see him when he took me to work with him or when I helped him with his studies; but that was few and far between. I guess I looked too much like my mother; he never makes eye contact with me anymore.

The room had become beyond steamy when I came back from my thoughts. Quickly I changed the water a bit cooler before climbing in. The water ran down my back as I stood, one hand braced against the wall. I slowly relaxed as the warmth seeped into my tired muscles. For some reason my father thought it was necessary to walk to the farthest hotel from the airport as physically possible while still preferring to be within the legal distance of the city. While I hadn't packed much more than a backpack of clothes and other necessities, I was still tired from carrying my luggage across the city.

Believe it or not my father was absolutely paranoid. I had listened to him talk on the phone with a co-worker about the government tracking him were ever he went. Apparently, he thought that he had cracked open something that the United States wanted to keep on a down low. Though I had no idea what that had to do with being thousands of miles south of the USA, perhaps he thought that being in a country that was very friendly to our home was a good way to be covert.

I took the cake of soap from the wrapper and lathered some into my hands. Dragging the soap over my body, I watched as the soap left a white smear where ever I pressed it. Setting the soap on the ground I roughly swiped at the soap layered on my skin. The low water pressure didn't help much, but eventually I was able to remove the crappy soap. Turning the water off, I pulled by the curtain to be met by cool air. I hope that my father knows what he's doing.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

My father had returned about an hour after my shower. Clad in fresh clothes and wet hair we were transported by a taxi through Rio. I watched as my father conversed with the little Hispanic man in what sounded like the same language he used to talk to the hotel lady. One that involved a lot of rolled Rs and strange inflections on the different syllables.

Soon after, the taxi dropped us at the guard station of a gated building. The building was boringly white with no windows to mark different floors. The only thing that impaired the building's featureless stone was, what I assumed to be, the front door. The security guard took the badges my father held out, put them through a small scanner and pressed a button. In response the gate slowly swung open.

My father walked through the gate and made his way to stainless steel doors. I cautiously followed him. My feet crunched over the gravel and my right hand twirled my long brown hair around my index finger, a nervous habit I tended to use under intense pressure. My father, now near the door, raised his hands and knocked on the door. After a few moments of silence the door opened to reveal several men in black tuxedos and sunglasses, think 'Men in Black'. Except theses men were much bigger and taller. They made a small space between themselves to make space for my father and myself to pass through. My father walked up to them to pass through the door and I quickly followed.

Once passed the men I followed my father down a narrow hallway. I heard the men follow behind me, the multiple footsteps echoed off the walls. At the end of the corridor there was a small doorway. My father approached the door and knock once again. The door was opened by several other men in black suits and sunglasses. We passed them as well and made our way down another corridor. Several doors later there was a small army following our every move. Finally my father knock on a door and it was opened by a scrawny man in lab coat.

"Well hello," The man in the doorway said. My father shook his outstretched hand. "Doctor Prehal I presume?" My father nodded. The man grinned. Looked passed my father, the scrawny man's eyes fell upon me. I felt smaller under his analytical gaze. "This must be your daughter, yes?" My father nodded. "Excellent! Then we can get started right away!"

I don't know why, but the one sentence caused my stomach to coil around itself into an icy ball. I backed away from the skinny, terrifying man slowly. Unfortunately, I forgot about the men behind me. I bumped into hard muscle before I was roughly grabbed. The pair of hands forced my through the doorway after my father and the scary man. Many buttons and scientific things met my eyes, but none of them scarred me quiet as much as the window that stared into the room next it. The room was lit brightly. The whitewashed walls were the same color as outside, and glowed just as intensely. From the ceiling hung several different types of gun looking machines that hung over a steel table with leather straps bolted onto them to stay connected to the table..

I shivered brightly. I looked for my father, but all I was colorful lights as I rushed through the room to the connecting one. The man threw me onto the table, momentarily stunning me. Before I knew it, I was struggling against the straps. I turned my head this way and that, trying to find some way out. I couldn't see the window into the room next to the one I was in or the door I had passed through. The walls were without flaw.

"Alright little duckling!" A loud voice sounded throughout the room around me. I struggled more. "Now, now. You won't be able to get away, even if you broke out of your prison. Please, don't make us tranquilize you."

I began to cry. I didn't know what to do. I was trapped, helpless against my bonds. I began to scream. Panic settled in my heart. I wanted out. I wanted all of this to be a dream.

I don't think I felt the needle that pierced my skin, but I knew I was beginning to fall asleep.


End file.
